Blackbird
by Red Sonja of the North
Summary: If he looked down, he would see dark waters churn with bitterness and tension, and if he looked above, he would see the brilliant flashes of lightning darting in front of ink black clouds. he forced himself to keep going straight. AFTER FANG.


**Blackbird**

**Maximum Ride**

**I made this for a friend who has gotten into the joy of Maximum Ride. Anyways, I've been listening to an insanely large amount of Alter Bridge, and I began thinking about Maximum Ride, or more preciously Fang. I hated books 4, 5, 6, but I kind of wanted to do something Fang related for something, and I wasn't about to do one of those cheesy 'From Max to you Asshole' letters. Anyways, I dislike Max, but tried to not show her at all to save all you Max adoring fans from my hatred. Anyways, I have a stitched thumb (I sliced it in my Hospitality class), and couldn't really make this as long as I had wanted. So, here is the shortened outcome of Blackbird. My thumb really hurts now. So, enjoy reading. Read and Review, thank you very much. **

As he flew away, his eyes glared out to the horizon, revealing the turmoil of darkened skies. A storm was coming, and already he could feel the harsh winds building, sweeping him away. He kept his eyes open, not daring to shut him, the image of Max crumpled on the floor with his note in her hand had carved itself to the inside of his skull. Every time he opened his dark eyes, he was terrified if she would appear in front of him, with a wail falling from her lips.

He had left, not wanting to take another risk. He was going to die, and he was going to die alone. It was what he had deserved, after all. He was going to die by his terms, and not by anyone else's. Certainly not by Angel's predictions, and not by feeling their eyes through his head, waiting for him to kneel over a die.

Not long ago, maybe a year, Angel had been ripped away from them, and they had taken off divided to find her and bring her home. They lost a home, and gained another misfortune. Angel had once been someone he had loved dearly, like a little sister. She had crawled to him in the middle of the night, and he would guard her away from nightmares. And now-now she wasn't Angel. She was somebody whom betrayed them.

But it was better this way.

If he looked down, he would see dark waters churn with bitterness and tension, and if he looked above, he would see the brilliant flashes of lightning darting in front of ink black clouds. The wind was cold, clawing at his clothes and tearing at his face. Tears rose to his eyes, the sharp sting of the breeze. Letting go of his pack of clothing, he let it drop to the sea. He had flown for so long without rest, and as his weary body seemed to beg for release, he forced himself to keep flying, going straight, and not looking back.

It was a burning pain, one reminding him of his past. Memories resurfaced-ones he had tried to bury deep within the darkness. He remembered vaguely of Iggy's eyes, and how wide they had been, trying to see something, anything after that fateful experiment. And now, his very one dark eyes were forced open from the force of the wind, and bitter tears streaming down his face from the torture of it all.

He wondered where Iggy was now. Probably holding the note that he had left for Max, trying to figure why, and how Fang had done all of this. Angel was probably feeling smug, knowing that she had been right, and the Flock had unraveled rapidly. God knew what was happening. For all he knew, they could be dead. The School always seemed to rise out of the ashes, and destroying whatever fragments of peace they clung to.

And now, he was to die. He was going to be the first one. After all he had suffered through, after all the fighting and experiments, and begging for life, it would all be for nothing. A pathetic waste of energy.

The cold wind forced his flight downwards, and he came just four feet above those churning waves that seemed to beckon to him, as if wanting to wrap him in the icy grips of the waters, and drag him far down. He remember, vaguely, as he struggled to fly upwards, of the time when he, Iggy and Gazzy had flown straight into the calmer waters, in a place and time so long gone from now. So much pain, straining against the wind.

"NO!" He screamed the word ripped from his throat instantly, pushing himself harder, trying to bring himself back to life, and break through from the icy grip of reality. "NO! Not like this!" He begged, and began to repeat those words as if a mantra, an endless chant to keep him going.

Twenty years. A promise. Broken fragments of a heart. He owed Max that. He would continue on his plan, no matter how much it broke and shattered the thin barrier that separated insanity and reality.

The storm was just as rough, unrelenting as before. But he was different. He forced himself forward, hitting the winds head on. If he wanted to, he could have attempted the 'hawk styles' he had learnt so long ago, when the entire flock had stood divided an uneven, trying to save something so far away. But for now, his awkward, clumsy flying was enough. He needed nothing else.

He had suffered plenty of times. He had been injected, stabbed, sliced open, violated and placed on display for an audience. He had been weary, broken and dead inside. He had stumbled along after a prize, trying to keep everything inside his mind. Nothing to lose, nothing to hurt over.

A final roar of anger, pain and weariness, he caught sight of a small cluster of rocks jutting over the whirling waves. So many memories of the past-sleeping underground, or his brief time at the actual school and Anne Walker. He remembered embarking on the cold mission to the frozen land, as well as the heated and tense time under the water in the tiny submarine. He remembered so much, and felt so much. Agony of leaving it all behind.

He hadn't left right away, he had waited. And watched. He needed to see, he needed to know. He had watched as Max had taken the note, and read the roughly written words, and collapsed. And wailed.

He had watched her break before his eyes, and as the rest of his family had gathered around her crumpled form, he had fled like a coward. But now, he would leave.

He felt the smooth, but yet rough rock underneath his shaking legs, and feel to his knees, and allowed the soothing darkness to overcome his struggles.

Rain pelted his skin, wind crashed against him. But here, he was safe. An island lost at sea, where one could hide and never be seen again. The irony was not lost on him, and he almost laughed at the insanity of it all.

His throat was hoarse and rough from the endless yelling, but he managed to whisper to the raging battle, "Don't be broken, and never be broken.

**The End. Hope you all liked. If not, well… I'll try and muster up the energy to care. **

**Review, please.**


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